


in time

by coalitiongirl



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 17:21:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19480531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coalitiongirl/pseuds/coalitiongirl
Summary: Hope…Hope, her darling girl, is a stranger she loves more than life. There had been thirty years in the Quantum Realm to think of her, to drift into sorrow and longing and wonder at the daughter she hardly knows. Now, she sees Hope and she can’t breathe.Janet Van Dyne, after her homecoming.





	in time

The world is so small and so large at the same time. 

It’s something to get used to all over again, how immense and varied the world beyond the Quantum Realm can be. The Quantum Realm is infinite, but it is hollow and empty at the same time, slow-moving and beyond human comprehension. There had been evolution, slow awareness of living things that had become visible over the years, but it had still been  _ quiet _ . Peaceful.

The world is alive. There are whole continents– whole  _ planets _ , now– teeming with people and animals and flora, each living thing with its own thoughts and needs and motivations. The sky doesn’t move, and people travel on the ground, and there is so much talking that Janet has a perpetual headache for weeks after she emerges from the Quantum Realm. The world is careening forward, and Janet has been left far, far behind.

Janet is dizzy with wonder, overwhelmed and intoxicated, and it is a relief when Henry leads her back to their quiet beach. The ocean here crashes and falls, the sand is still, and Janet feels more at home here than she ever will in the rest of the city. 

Henry hasn’t changed, at least. He is more circumspect now, more thoughtful and gentle, and years of grief have muted his caustic demeanor into gruffness. She knows they had once tempered each other, and they still do.

Hope…Hope, her darling girl, is a stranger she loves more than life. There had been thirty years in the Quantum Realm to think of her, to drift into sorrow and longing and wonder at the daughter she hardly knows. Now, she sees Hope and she can’t breathe.

Hope is  _ beautiful _ , is brilliant and accomplished and has taken up the mantle of the Wasp with pride. Janet would happily spend another three decades just watching her, in awe of all she’s become. Hope watches her with a similar awe, a similar uncertainty.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she murmurs one afternoon. They sit in the sand, their bare feet just grazing the water that licks at the shore. Henry sits on Hope’s other side, an arm slung around her waist, and Janet wants to do the same.

She doesn’t. There’s an awkwardness still between them, an uncertainty Janet wishes she could chase away. She knows that it will return with time, and she has all the time in the world now. But still, she longs to be as easily Hope’s as Henry is. “I am so glad that you two had each other while I was gone.” 

There is a shift, hardly noticeable. Henry is silent, his mouth tightening. Hope says firmly, “So are we.” Something is wrong, and Janet closes her eyes, ascribing the sudden tension in the air to grief at the time they’ve lost. 

Hope lays her head against Janet’s shoulder and Janet finally dares to let her arm join Henry’s around their daughter’s back.

* * *

There is Ava now, too. A connection has sprung up between them, fierce and needy, and it is easy in all the ways that Hope is not. Maybe it’s only that Ava seems to need a  _ mother _ , more than anything, and Hope is far beyond that. And Ava needs Janet for now, too.

“I don’t know how much more I have within me,” she confesses one afternoon. Ava is in the basement with Janet under Hope’s watchful eye as Janet feeds her more healing particles. Upstairs, Bill and Henry are debating particle physics together without breaking into fisticuffs, a  _ miracle _ . 

Hope doesn’t trust Ava, not entirely, and she still hasn’t quite forgiven her for her desperate attempt to suck out Janet’s life-force. Janet, as said life-force, is more forgiving. “The more time I spend out of the Quantum Realm, the fewer healing particles I seem to have,” Janet says gravely.

Ava stares up at Janet, her eyes hopeless, and she says, “How much more time do I have?”

She thinks she’s going to die without Janet. Janet stares at her in alarm, and she says, her voice strained, “No. I’ll…of course I’ll go back into the Quantum Realm to get you more healing particles. When that day comes. I won’t let you die.” 

Hope says, “Mom,  _ no _ .” There is fierce defensiveness in her eyes, horror at the thought of Janet returning to the Quantum Realm. “You’re not going back there.” 

Ava sags, still so vulnerable that Janet wants to rush forward and hold her, and she says dully, “I understand–” 

“I’ll go,” Hope says, and Ava blinks at her in startled shock. Hope offers her a terse smile. “I was going to go there to get Mom, anyway. I can get enough to keep you going for a while, then head back in for more.” She shrugs, uncomfortable around Ava, and she says, “I’m going to go make sure Dad hasn’t set the ants on Bill yet.” 

She makes a beeline for the stairs, and Ava nearly collapses into Janet’s arms in relief. Janet holds her tightly, strokes her hair and wraps her into her arms. Ava sobs, clutching her close, and Janet barely hears the creak from the staircase.

But she does, and she sees Hope watching in the shadows. Janet can’t read her gaze. Hope turns away, climbing up the stairs and out of sight.

* * *

And then, there’s Scott. Janet knows Scott, has been in his  _ head _ , and there is something oddly comforting about his presence. He smiles easily and makes Hope laugh and he is simple, though he is far from stupid. He is just…comfortable, a man who knows himself and doesn’t need to wrap a thousand layers around his deepest essence.

When he’s around, Henry and Hope both seem to unwind, the former opting for gruff mockery that can’t disguise his fondness and the latter…

_ Well _ . Hope around Scott is something truly precious. She is calmer, the tension seeping from her shoulders, and her eyes glow with affection that is earned instead of freely gifted. They spar together almost every afternoon, and Janet had ignored Henry’s warnings and peered downstairs once to see it.

Hope is fluid grace, curving around Scott and moving with unnatural speed. Scott punches hard and fights well, but he is outmatched, and Janet can see how Hope telegraphs her moves so that they can spar without Scott winding up on the ground immediately. Together, they are perfectly in sync, and Janet admires it right up until Scott darts a little too far forward and slams Hope against the wall. 

But Hope laughs, light and free, and Scott begins to kiss her shoulder instead of going in for another blow. Hope tilts her head back to give him better access and Janet retreats back upstairs, reluctant to interrupt their time together.

Her seven-year-old girl is grown into a woman, and Janet is trying to learn that every day now. Hope and Scott emerge from the basement some time later, bright-eyed and bumping against each other as they maneuver around the kitchen. “We’re making dinner,” Scott announces.

Henry lifts his phone. “Think Domino’s delivers to squatting fugitives?” 

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Scott gives him a dirty look. “I’ll have you know that Cassie has declared my cooking  _ awesome _ and  _ better than Paxton’s _ and I am about to  _ school  _ you.” He fiddles with the stove, and Hope slides an arm around him to toggle the ignition. 

“You might need that first, Iron Chef.” She winks at him and then goes to the fridge to dig out some vegetables for a salad. Janet sits back, watching the way that Scott and Hope interact.  _ Ant-Man and the Wasp _ . They move like she and Henry had once, so coordinated that they don’t need to speak when they toss each other implements or swap places in front of the stove.

But they are different, too. Scott is more like her, Janet thinks, and Hope more like Henry. They squabble without any bite, and Scott tempers Hope’s stubbornness and finds her gentle core. Scott makes everyone a little more comfortable as they try to figure out what it is that their family is now. “He’s an idiot,” Henry mutters when Hope walks out with him that evening. “She could do better.”

“He is,” Janet agrees, because Scott revels in it, is light-eyed and has never lost his inner child. “And she couldn’t.” There is no one better for Hope than Scott, Janet has learned very quickly.

Henry snorts, but he doesn’t argue with her, only wraps an arm around her and stands in silence as they watch Hope and Scott disappear into the distance.

* * *

She’s slowly getting the hang of this, walking through the streets without flinching whenever someone passes by. Hope’s hand stays on her arm, centering her, and it helps more than any other acclimation might. “I’m still technically a fugitive,” Hope reminds her, hair up and sunglasses on. “But they tend to expect to see me around Dad. We’re kind of a package deal.” 

“You really are,” Janet agrees. It’s been a comfort to her, knowing that they’d had each other over the years that she’d been gone. “I used to worry–” She stops herself.

Hope looks over at her. “What?” she prompts.

Janet laughs, self-conscious. “When you were a little girl, you adored Henry so much. And he loved you desperately, don’t get me wrong, but he never had much patience for children. I worried all the time when I was in the Quantum Realm that he’d shut you out– that you’d be consigned to nannies and boarding schools and barely get to have a relationship with your father.” She waves her hand, brushing away those old fears. “But look at the two of you. You were loved.” 

Hope’s eyes are hidden beneath her sunglasses, but she offers Janet a tremulous smile. “None of it was the same without you,” she begins, and then she snaps her mouth shut as though reconsidering. “But we…we managed. We had each other.” 

Janet squeezes her hand, glad for an excuse to touch her. “Knowing that is the only thing that lets me come to terms with being gone so long,” she murmurs, and Hope squeezes back.

“We could never be happy without you,” Hope says stiltedly. “But we had…there were moments. In the summer, Dad would let me sit down in the basement while he’d work and I’d play with his earpiece– after a while, I was better at controlling the ants than he was.” She smirks, and Janet grins at her. “I was studying particle physics at twelve with Dad. By fifteen, he finally showed me the Ant-Man suit.” 

“And the Wasp suit?” 

“Much, much later,” Hope says wryly. “Dad didn’t want me to wear it for a long time. It’s how Scott wound up in the picture. Really pissed me off.” 

She’s rarely this animated when she talks about the past, and Janet drinks it in. Hope and Henry avoid much conversation of the thirty years that Janet had spent away. There are explanations of current events or technology or quantum theory, but rarely much on the personal side.

Maybe it’s just so much that every tiny detail feels trivial. But Janet craves trivial, all those tiny details that had come together to create Hope Van Dyne and Henry Pym as they are now. 

“And you and Scott…”

Hope shrugs. “We’re partners now,” she says simply. “When he isn’t being an utter dumbass, it’s good.” But there’s a curve to her lips that implies that  _ utter dumbass  _ is said with fondness, and Janet studies her face and smiles.

Hope is as laconic as her father, sometimes. This is how Janet is learning to get to know her– through the curve of her lips and the distance in her eyes. Hope holds back, is unabashed with her love for Janet but is still keeping so much from her, and Janet wants to know it all.

In time. In time.

* * *

Janet wakes up one morning gasping, feeling the last of the quantum energy within her beginning to wink out. “Ava,” she says, her heart pounding. “We have to send for Ava or I’ll have nothing left–” 

Henry reacts, is making the phone call before Janet has even gotten dressed. “You need to bring Ava over today,” he says into the phone. “She’s running out of– yes, I know,” he snaps. “But I’m not ready to send another one of my girls into the Quantum Realm for your–” 

“Henry,” Janet says, laying a hand on his shoulder before he can say something rash. Henry falls silent.

Bill says something on the other end of the phone, and Henry murmurs, “I know. I know.” He swallows. “Come on over. We’ll be here.” 

They dress quickly. There are voices filtering up from the kitchen, which means that Hope and Scott are already over. Which is odd. It’s the weekend, and Hope had been planning to spend it at Scott’s with his–

Janet freezes at the bottom of the stairs. A little girl is perched on the dining room table, a ghost from another time.  _ No _ . That had once been Hope’s spot. Janet would be doing paperwork for SHIELD, drudgery she’d had to bring home with her, and Hope would sit on the table next to her with her legs dangling and her eyes squinting at words she couldn’t understand. 

This girl is only a bit older than Hope had been, though she is clearly not Hope. Her hair is darker, her eyes a mirror image of Scott’s, and she eyes Janet curiously. “Hi,” she says.

“Hello.” Janet smiles at her, tentative through the pain of loss that accompanies this image. “You must be Cassie. I’m Janet. Hope and Scott talk about you all the time.” 

“I’m a lot to talk about,” Cassie agrees, straight-faced. “Sorry we had to come here. Some bad guy punched a hole through the roof at Dad’s house.” 

Janet raises her eyebrows, mildly alarmed. “Oh.” 

Cassie shrugs. “Dad grew, like, thirty feet and then beat him up. He says he has good insurance. You don’t have to disclose that you’re a superhero if you wear a suit. We just have to stay here for the rest of the weekend.” 

“I hope that’s okay,” Scott says, entering the dining room with a plate of eggs. “Hope thought the guest room upstairs might be company-ready–” 

“Of course,” Janet says, and her eyes sparkle as she takes Cassie in. “I’m sure we can find some way to entertain a ten-year-old girl in this house. I have  _ some  _ experience.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “I have a killer chocolate cookie recipe we can try out.” 

Cassie beams. “Nice,” she pronounces.

Hope trails into the room next, eyes flickering between them. “You don’t have to, Mom. I’m sure you had plans–” 

“Nonsense,” Janet says swiftly. This is Scott’s daughter. At the back of her mind, she thinks,  _ maybe someday my granddaughter _ . And she’s swinging her legs against the table like an ancient echo of Hope, and Janet wants– “I would love to get to know Cassie.” 

* * *

They do bake cookies together, and then Scott climbs into the attic and goes hunting for the old boxes of toys and books that are labeled with Hope’s name. Hope is reticent as he does it, all smiles for Cassie and Janet as she passes over toys and reminisces about them with Janet.

“My Barbie dolls,” she says, shaking her head as she pushes the box to Scott. “Mom liked to get me the ones with careers. She was very insistent that I could do whatever I wanted to.” 

“Let me guess,” Scott says, picking up Astronaut Barbie. “Your favorite?” 

Janet snorts. “Her favorite was Barbie Fashion Jeans, actually.” Hope gives Janet a dirty look, and Janet grins at her, unrepentant. “We used to spend hours dressing her dolls and doing their hair. Hope wanted to be a hairstylist when she grew up–” 

“Stop,” Hope groans. “ _ Please _ .” 

“I think hairstylists are just as cool as superheroes,” Cassie says loyally, and Hope winks at her.

Her smile dims as Cassie and Janet begin to play together. Scott jumps in, a practiced Barbie-player, and Hope leans back against the wall of the guest room and watches them instead, an odd distance in her eyes. Scott notices before Janet, and he wiggles a Ken doll in front of his mouth and says in a fake-deep voice, “Come play with me, Hope, I’m bored.” 

Hope gives him a look. “I’m going to go see what Dad’s up to,” she says, rolling her eyes and heading for the door.

Janet catches her at the top of the stairs. “I don’t want to overstep,” she says cautiously. She has a long way to go before she understands her daughter, and she’s anxious not to upset her. “If you were meant to spend today with Cassie–” 

Hope waves a hand. “No, it’s fine,” she says, smiling wanly at Janet. “You’re a natural with kids. I’m not much for Barbies anymore, anyway. You’re doing me a favor.” 

Janet is unconvinced. “Hope,” she begins, and then the doorbell rings.

_ Ava _ . Hope’s smile stiffens even more when she opens the door and Ava is standing behind it. “Hello, Hope,” Ava says uncertainly. She brightens when she sees Janet behind her. “Janet.” 

Janet pulls her into an embrace, and she can feel the particles within her straining for Ava, desperate to heal her a little more. She presses her hands to Ava’s temples, closing her eyes and feeling energy pass between them. 

When it’s done, she feels hollow, as though she’s given up a piece of herself with the last of the particles. This is it, all she can give Ava, and Ava leans her head against Janet’s shoulder and slips her arms tightly around her.

Hope says abruptly. “The two of you should sit. Recover. Then we can talk– we can figure out our game plan.”

There’s an odd tension in the room now, one that is present whenever Ava and Hope are both here. “I need fewer and fewer particles each day,” Ava says carefully, looking at Hope. “It gets easier each day. I don’t think it’ll take much more before I’ll be all right.” 

Hope nods jerkily. “I can try to contain as many particles as possible when I go in. I’ll go– as many times as you need–” 

“It’s a risk,” Ava murmurs. “I don’t want you to get lost in there.” 

“I can handle myself.” Hope  _ can  _ handle herself. It’s one thing that Janet hasn’t doubted since she’d returned home. Hope has grown into a strong and capable woman who can take anything that the world throws at her, and Janet respects that even through the prickle of fear that comes with knowing that Hope will be venturing into the Quantum Realm. “We promised we’d help you, and we will.” 

Hope is kind, is good, and she will throw herself into her worst nightmare to help someone who had been an enemy not too long ago. Ava’s eyes fill with gratitude, and she says, still cautious around Hope, “Thank you.” 

Hope shrugs it off. “It all goes back to my father, kind of. We owe you.” It’s a little brusque, Hope still uncomfortable with Ava. 

When she makes an excuse to go downstairs, Janet lets her go.

* * *

Cassie and Scott wind up expanding their grand game with the Barbies into the living room, and Ava is in awe at the number of dolls there are. “These are in perfect condition,” she marvels. “I think I even  _ had  _ some of them.” 

“We’re playing Summer Camp Barbie,” Scott informs her, passing her Astronaut Barbie. “That’s Tiffany. She has a  _ mega  _ crush on Amanda, but Amanda is, like, completely oblivious.” He parrots Cassie’s voice, and Cassie giggles, twisting Barbie Fashion Jeans away from Astronaut Barbie.

“Well,” Ava says, her eyes narrowing. “We’ll just have to make Amanda notice her.” She takes the Barbie and pops off the helmet, twisting her hair into a braid. Janet sits back, watching them in contented silence. There’s still an odd emptiness inside her, one that feels like she just hasn’t had enough to eat today, and she contemplates making lunch now. 

Maybe in a little bit.

For now, Cassie has made it onto Ava’s lap, and she looks up at her, wide-eyed. “Is it true that you’re Ghost?” she whispers loudly. “Can you walk through walls?” 

“Sort of,” Ava says, smiling at her. “It’s a bit harder now that I’m healing, but I can do it when I’m wearing my suit. I look a little like Tiffany in it, though. It’s not as cool as your father’s.” 

“When I grow up, Hank’s going to make me a suit, too,” Cassie pronounces. Scott looks at her in alarm. “He promised me once.” 

“Did he?” Janet says, her eyes narrowing.

Cassie shrugs. “I mean, it was a couple of years ago. He probably thinks I forgot, but I didn’t,” she says smugly. “I’m going to be Ant-Girl.” 

“Oh, boy,” Scott mutters. “We will  _ see _ , Cassie. When you are much, much older. Thirty, maybe. Forty.” 

Cassie rolls her eyes at him. “Whatever, Daddy.” She picks up Barbie Fashion Jeans. “Amanda’s superpower is that she can shoot lasers out of her eyes. She’s super cool. Almost as cool as Ant-Man.” 

“Now, that’s just unrealistic,” Henry says from the doorway. He’s back upstairs with Hope and Bill, and there’s a soft smile on his face as he takes them in. “No one is as cool as Ant-Man, Cassie.” 

Scott puts up a hand. “The Wasp?” 

“Fair,” Henry concedes. “But–”

Cassie says, “Captain America!”

“Ghost,” Ava declares, and Cassie bobs her head in agreement.

“Iron Man,” Janet suggests, because she’s been pretty impressed with what she’s seen of Howard’s son in her catch-up, and Henry’s eyes flash.

“Absolutely not,” he says threateningly, pointing a finger at her, and Janet laughs. Ava leans her head against Janet’s shoulder, Cassie curling into Ava’s lap, and Janet closes her eyes in bittersweet contentment.

When she opens them, she sees Hope behind Henry. Her eyes are as unreadable as ever, but Janet can sense the tension coming off of her in waves. “Hope–” she begins, and she doesn’t understand what it is that is upsetting Hope, but she knows that it’s  _ her _ . Hope is in distress, is always in distress around Janet, and she closes herself off with tight smiles and airy assurances that nothing else matters.

Scott is watching Hope, too, troubled, but it’s Ava who reacts. She slides Cassie off of her lap, crossing the room to reach out to Hope. “Hope,” she says, and there is apology in her voice.

Hope snaps, “Don’t  _ touch  _ me!” It’s torn from her throat as though by duress, and she looks mortified and furious and lost all at once. Ava drops her hand, and Hope presses her hands into her face. “I need– I’m going to take a walk,” she says abruptly, and she whirls around and makes a break for the door.

Scott presses a kiss to Cassie’s hair and follows Hope out, and Janet wrings her hands, desperate to join them and aware that she is very much uninvited.

* * *

They stand on the beach together for a long time. Hank had told her to let Hope cool down with Scott, but he’d looked frustrated, just as closed off as Hope is. So Janet is in the guest room, watching from the window as Hope stares out at the ocean, Scott behind her. They aren’t talking.

“Sometimes Hope gets sad,” Cassie confides in Janet, perched beside her by the window. “Daddy says that sometimes you just have to let people ride that feeling.” 

“Your Daddy’s pretty smart,” Janet murmurs. No one has been sad around her since she’s gotten back. It’s all been cheerful smiles and assurances that they’re all  _ okay _ , that this is perfect as it is, and there’s been a brick wall beyond all her efforts to find out more. “Does Hope…is she sad a lot?”

Cassie shrugs. “More now than back the first time she was dating Daddy,” she says, and Janet’s heart wrenches. 

She turns around. Ava is sitting on the guest room bed, her head in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I think…this is my fault, isn’t it?” 

“No,” Janet hurries to assure her. “ _ No _ . Hope likes you–” 

“Hope hates me,” Ava says humorlessly. “She trains with me and she lets me come by and she despises me. I don’t blame her. I tried to kill her mother.” 

“You were in pain. Hope knows that.” Janet might not know her daughter very well, but she is beginning to learn about her now, and she knows that Hope is wary but kind. “She would never–” And she feels suddenly foolish, trying to fill in the blanks of a daughter she hardly knows in front of Cassie, who has spent far more time with Hope. “She would understand,” Janet says, but she is uncertain.

Outside, Hope is kissing Scott before she turns away, her eyes anguished, and begins to walk along the beach away from the house. Scott heads toward the house.

Ava watches him approach through the window, and she says, “Are you sure?” She is only a girl, vulnerable and afraid and lost, and Janet holds her tightly, embraces her like the second daughter she’d never gotten the chance to have. 

When she pulls away, Scott is leaning against the doorpost of the room. “Cassie,” he says, “Do you want to take Ava downstairs and see how Tiffany and Amanda are holding up?” 

Janet turns away, watching the speck that is Hope as it vanishes down the beach. She can hear Ava and Cassie retreat, chattering about the Barbies, but she doesn’t take her eyes from the window. 

Scott clears his throat. “Hank and Hope will  _ kill _ me if I say anything,” he says. “But I’m prone to…really bad decisions, sometimes.” Janet watches the ocean, unable to speak. Scott is comforting, is good to Hope, has a presence that is warm and joyful. “And I spent three years in lockup away from Cassie, and I know…god, if Maggie had kept anything from me–” 

“Scott,” Janet prods. They’re close to a revelation, to something worth telling, and Scott is rambling. “Say anything about what?” 

Scott swallows. “I mean it. They would kill me. I’d lose Hope again, and I  _ can’t _ do that– I don’t think I can live without her ever again.” He moves to stand beside Janet, capturing her gaze, and he says, slowly and carefully, “And it’d be really dumb of me to say anything when you can just  _ Google  _ half of what I want to tell you, anyway–” He snaps his mouth shut. “Anyway, I’m going to go see what Cassie’s doing–” he starts, heading for the door.

“Scott,” Janet says, turning back to the beach. She hears, rather than sees, him stop moving. “Thank you.” 

She doesn’t know what she’s thanking him for, exactly, but she pulls out the smartphone that Henry had given her and opens the browser. She’s used it sparingly, has found the Internet every bit as overwhelming as the outside world, but she’s glanced through some of the mentions of current events. 

She hasn’t thought to search for her husband or daughter there, but she types in their names with a shaking finger.  _ HANK PYM HOPE VAN DYNE. _

There are a number of news articles, most recent. There are reports of their successful capture and jailbreak a few weeks before, then a few articles about them going on the run from two years ago. She has to scroll for a long time before she finds a headline that jolts her.

_ PYM OUSTED FROM PYM TECHNOLOGIES; ESTRANGED DAUGHTER IS DECIDING VOTE _ .

She reads it three times before she clicks on the article.

* * *

Henry is in the basement, deep in theoretical physics with Bill when Janet sweeps in. “Boarding school?” she demands, her eyes flashing and her heart pounding against her chest. “You sent her to  _ boarding school _ ?” 

“Would you look at the time?” Bill says, checking his empty wrist. “I’ve got to…go teach a class or…” He edges toward the stairs. 

Janet ignores him. “She voted you out of the company. She doesn’t even go by  _ Pym _ , which I thought was a tribute to my memory or…how do you two even live in the same house now? How long have you two been pretending on my behalf?” Her lungs are aching, the hollow emptiness within her growing more with the strain of this revelation. “What did you do to our daughter?” 

She wants Henry to deny it, to laugh off her accusations as silly tabloid gossip. She wants there to be an explanation for the boarding schools, for the estrangement, for all the sordid details of Hope’s childhood that she’d learned online. 

Instead, Henry sags, and Janet wants to weep. “We weren’t pretending,” he murmurs. “None of this is…it’s been thirty years, Janet. We’ve had our ups and downs.” 

“Tell me,” Janet says fiercely, and she hurts for Hope, the lonely girl on the beach who had grown up without a mother. 

Henry closes his eyes. “I was lost without you,” he whispers. “I only wanted to find you. To give Hope back her mother. And I didn’t know how to…I alternated between overprotective and neglectful. Sometimes I just wanted to lock her away from the world. Sometimes I couldn’t remember she existed. I was drowning, Janet. I fucked up. I fucked Hope up. And I lost her.” 

He scrubs at his face with his eyes. Janet can’t think, can’t speak. “Three years ago, she came back to me. My onetime protege was trying to duplicate the Pym Particle and sell suits to the military. We worked together. Eventually…she forgave me. I don’t think I ever forgave myself. All those years of loneliness, of growing up without parents…” He buries his face in his hands. “Janet, I failed her. I failed both of you.”

Janet can only stare at him, her hands trembling. It had been her greatest fear, once, before she’d emerged from the Quantum Realm. Hope alone, Henry broken. It is easier to imagine them banding together, to think of Hope as a child in Henry’s workshop– ( _ in the summers, _ she’d said, and Janet hadn’t questioned it)– to imagine the two of them against the world. It is easier to believe that they’d been happy.

This feels more real.

“You lied to me,” she says, her heart stuttering in her chest. “You hid this from me.” 

“We would have told you someday,” Henry says. “It was too soon– we have time, now–” 

“I don’t know what we have,” Janet says blankly, and she suddenly needs to leave this house, this air heavy with memories and regrets and loneliness. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Janet–” Henry begins brokenly, and Janet turns from him and walks up the steps, aching with hollow despair.

* * *

It is sunny outside, the sort of bright day that would attract hundreds to a less secluded part of the beach. Here, though, the beach is still and the water is quiet. The water ripples here and rushes, and Janet wonders if, if she would dive inside, it might feel a bit more like the Quantum Realm. 

She had survived there for decades, and she had learned peace in her years in stasis. There had been adventures, there had been survival, and there had been years and years of nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.

She hadn’t gone mad. She had thought she would, had resigned herself to the probability, but there had been one thing that had kept her going, had kept her mind clear for thirty years.

Her daughter, waiting at the end of the line for her.

Hope stands, balanced on two large rocks over the water, and Janet knows that she can see her approaching. She doesn’t retreat, just stands there.

Janet stops when she’s a few feet away, frozen and uncertain what there is to say. They’re both frozen, poised and staring at each other without any words, and it’s Hope who breaks the silence. “I’m sorry,” she says dully. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at Ava.”

“She understands,” Janet says, and she tries to laugh. “She thinks you hate her.”

“Yeah,” Hope says, and her fists tighten as Janet stares at Hope in astonishment.

Because she’d been very sure that Hope had only been uncomfortable, wary of Ava because of their history, but not unkind enough to  _ hate  _ her. “She needs us, Hope. She’s a scared girl without a mother–” 

“ _ So was I! _ ” Hope snaps, and she claps her hand to her mouth, blinking away furious tears. Janet takes a step forward. Hope takes a step back, dangerously close to the ocean. 

“Tell me,” Janet pleads. It isn’t as fierce as it had been with Henry, but it’s just as desperate. Her family has been tiptoeing around her, lying to her and keeping her safe and sheltered as an infant. And they’ve been suffering for it, Hope most of all.

“No, I can’t–” Hope squeezes her eyes shut, but tears still leak out from beneath them. “I  _ can’t _ , Mom,” she repeats, and she is crying openly now, is teetering on a rock and sobbing. “I see you…I see you with Ava and with Cassie and taking every little girl you see under your wing and it’s  _ awful _ how angry I get– I  _ hate  _ it. But all I can see is how you’re everyone’s mother but–” She stops, slipping a little on the rock, and Janet rushes forward.

She catches Hope’s hands before she can fall, tugging her to her. “Hope,” she breathes, and she’s sobbing, too. “Oh, Jellybean–” 

“I lost you,” Hope gasps into her shoulder. “I lost you for so long. I needed you and now I don’t even know  _ how  _ to be your daughter anymore and I–” She pulls away, her eyes dark and lost as the tears stream down her cheeks. “I don’t think you know how to be my mother, either–”

It strikes like a bolt to the heart, like being shattered with just a sentence. Janet reels backward, chokes on it as Hope stares at her with horrified eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says, and she shakes her head and cries more and more. “I’m sorry, Mom, I’m  _ sorry _ –” 

The hollow sensation in Janet’s chest is growing, is enveloping her whole, and Janet says, woozy, “I don’t.” She doesn’t know how to be Hope’s mother, Hope who is closed off and who would rather protect her than confide in her. Ava is easy because Ava needs her, Ava cries out for a mother with her every ounce of her being. Hope is gentle and smart and is all she is despite Janet and not because of her. 

“No, Mom, I–” But Hope is putting Janet’s comfort first again, and Janet knows it, knows it as well as she knows that this hollowness inside of her isn’t natural. She sways, feeling weary beyond measure as Hope sobs and reaches for her again, and then she–

She–

* * *

She is awake and aware, and yet she can’t move. It’s strange, almost an out-of-body experience, her eyes blankly taking in whatever they can see without shifting. “She collapsed,” Hope is saying desperately, lowering her onto the couch. Janet catches the upturn of her chin, the terror in her eyes, and then she’s out of sight. 

Henry sounds frantic. “It makes no  _ sense _ , we did all the necessary tests on her– she should be  _ fine _ –” He’s holding onto her, stroking her arm, and she feels his kiss against her cheek. Someone else is holding her hand.  _ Hope. Please be Hope. _

“She used up the last of the particles today.” Bill reminds Henry. “It’s possible that the evolution we discussed meant that she needs to be in the Quantum Realm to maintain her life-force. Those last particles  _ were  _ her life-force.” 

“Then I don’t want them.” Ava, her voice fierce. “I’d rather live in pain for a few more months than watch Janet  _ die _ –” 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Hope says impatiently, the hand on Janet’s hand tightening. “We’re not letting either of you die.” 

Ava laughs raggedly. “Please,” she bites out. “This is what you  _ want _ , Hope–” 

Hope’s voice sounds raw. “No. God, no, Ava, I just– I want my  _ mother– _ ” She shifts back into view, her hand pressing against Janet’s cheek. It’s warm, even if Janet can’t quite register it. “I don’t want you to die, either.” She turns away from Janet. “If I go to the Quantum Realm– could I get more of those particles?” 

“There isn’t time. A trip like that could take days to prepare,” Bill says. “It’s too risky to jump right in there–”

“I don’t care. I’ll do it–” 

“ _ No _ !” A number of voices bark out at once, and then there’s a scuffle. People are fighting, Bill is shouting something and Hope is snarling Ava’s name and Janet strains desperately, trying to  _ move _ , and Henry is calling out for Hope and someone hits the ground with a thud.

“Hope!” It’s Scott’s voice, and Janet’s blood runs cold. And then there’s Ava, hovering above her with determination in her eyes, and her hands move to Janet’s temples.

She feels the hollow space inside her being filled out again, warming with quantum particles that are as much a piece of her as they are Ava. That’s what she’s been doing, she realizes suddenly. She’s been giving up pieces of herself to Ava all this time, the two of them sharing one life-force. 

And as Ava gives her life, her own eyes begin to dim. She’s gasping, her body moving in and out of phase, and Janet sits up, struggling to hold onto her as she seems to vanish from Janet’s grasp. “Ava!  _ Ava! _ ” 

The living room around her is a blur, Henry crouched beside her and Bill bent over Ava, Cassie sitting at the top of the steps with her eyes wide and Scott twisting around to her, Hope–

Hope slams into Ava, shoving her aside before she can surrender her entire life-force to Janet.

* * *

“You’ll have five years. Maybe longer,” Henry says. Ava is the one seated on the couch now. She’s stopped phasing for now, but she still looks a little woozy. “You won’t need it. Janet and Hope and I can get the quantum tunnel up and running in days.” 

He looks kindly at Ava, which is new for Henry. Janet smiles to herself and leans down to kiss Ava’s forehead. “We’ll call you in as soon as we’re ready,” she whispers.

Hope is on her knees in front of the couch, and she has Ava’s hands in hers. “I’m going to get you those particles,” she promises. “I won’t let you die.” There is fierce protectiveness in her eyes, the sort that Hope only offers to a valuable few. Ava squeezes her hands, then raises one to cup Hope’s cheek. There is a shining moment of tenderness between them, and Janet exhales, the world righted again.

Bill helps Ava out of the house, leaving only Janet’s family and Scott and Cassie behind. Scott says, without preamble, “Hope isn’t going into the Quantum Realm. I am.” 

Hope’s head jerks up. “You have a  _ daughter _ .”

“I’ve been there before,” Scott reminds her. “And it’s safe now, right? I did it once before. I can do it again.” He looks at Hope, quiet faith shining in his eyes, and he says, “You’ll pull me out. I’m no good at the controls to that thing. But you can pull me out.”

His eyes flicker to Janet, and she sees in his eyes a sort of steely determination, a  _ you just found each other _ that she recognizes. Scott isn’t going to let Hope risk herself now. 

Janet is very, very glad that Hope has him, and she smiles at him, soft and grateful and affectionate. Scott says, “Come on, Cassie. I have a sneaking suspicion that Tiffany might wind up being a superhero, too.” 

Cassie scoffs. “Tiffany’s a  _ supervillain _ , Daddy. Keep up.” But she looks relieved to leave the charged atmosphere of the living room. Only Henry, Janet, and Hope are left in the room.

Henry says, “Janet,” his voice pained, and Janet is suddenly tired of apologies, of all of them piecing together what it is that they want from each other. They have time now, maybe all the time in the world, but she can’t bear to waste another moment on recriminations. 

She walks to the kitchen instead, Hope and Henry trailing after her as though they’re scolded children, and she says, “Tea?”

* * *

It only takes three days before the Quantum Tunnel is ready, and they squeeze into the van and drive it out to a clear spot a mile out where they can set up their equipment. The house has been quiet lately, particularly subdued after Cassie had left, and even Scott can’t lighten the tension. 

He stands with Hope now, on the far side of the van, the two of them speaking quietly. “They really do make a good team,” Janet murmurs. “He’s good for her.” 

Henry sighs as though it pains him deeply to admit it. “I know,” he mutters. “He’s…he’s the first one she opened up to in a long time. I don’t know if we would have resolved things between us without him. He makes things easier.” 

“I’ve seen that.” Hope is pressing her forehead to Scott’s, a private shared moment, and Janet slips her hand into Henry’s. “You were grieving.” 

Henry shakes his head. “It isn’t an excuse.” But he keeps his hand in hers. “I told myself that if I– if I could only bring you back, it’d fix everything. You and Hope and me.”

“It’s never that simple,” Janet murmurs. “Too much time had passed.” 

Henry lifts his hands in silent agreement. “We both lost three decades,” he agrees, and there is sorrow in his eyes. “But I was the only one who had a choice.” 

“I want to know about it all,” Janet says, and she waits until Hope joins them, Scott staying behind to put the suit on. “Not to…I don’t want you to relive the pain. But I want to know what I missed. I want to  _ know _ you.” She runs a hand across Hope’s cheek, and Hope smiles tremulously at her. “I want to know how you grew up to be this beautiful, incredible woman. I want to know how to be a mother to you.” 

Hope covers Janet’s hand with her own, the love shining in her eyes, and maybe that’s all they really need to get through this.  _ Love _ , and their family has that in droves. “I want to tell you all of it,” she murmurs. “Soon. We have time.” 

And they do have time now, all the time that they’re going to need. The day is bright and sunny above them, the sky is clear, and the world feels open to possibilities. Today, they save Ava. Maybe someday soon, Henry and Hope will be pardoned by the government, and they’ll have freedom of movement again. They can return to science, to tech, to all the things that have always worked for their family.

They can begin to learn who they all are together, Henry and Hope and Janet and even Scott and Ava and Cassie and Bill, this strange little smushed-together family unit that’s still a work in progress. Janet’s heart feels light as Scott heads into the tunnel, as he reports back his success into their earpieces. This is it. This is moving forward.

They’re going to be……………………………………………..


End file.
